


learning to give

by unraelated



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: BDSM, Collars, Dom Claude, Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Sex, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sensory Deprivation, Shibari, Teaching, Voyeurism, dom Felix, performative sex, safe wording, service top dimitri, spitting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:53:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22995007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unraelated/pseuds/unraelated
Summary: Sylvain wants Felix to be cruel to him, but Felix doesn't know how to do that without enabling Sylvain's self loathing. Luckily, Claude is in a similar relationship with Dimitri - and what's more, he's happy to give Felix a demonstration.A collaboration withCosu, featuring nine beautiful art pieces!
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 66
Kudos: 866





	learning to give

“You’re pathetic,” Felix sneers with his chin tilted up, defiant. “You know that?”

At his feet, Sylvain nods, gasping for breath and inching closer on his knees. Sylvain is naked and Felix could look all day at the hard curves of his muscles, the way that his various scars pull across his thighs, his chest, the bulk of his shoulders.

He tips his head to watch, his expression cold. Sylvain’s gaze flickers downward, not quite to where Felix’s thigh-high boot is just _barely_ pressed against his aching cock, but instead glances toward the floor beside him with a choked nod.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, affected, rocking his hips up against Felix’s boot, though he’s no longer quite as enthused as he was a moment ago, “yeah I am.”

There’s a pause. That’s not quite the reaction he was hoping for, with Sylvain’s agreement sounding more like a genuine _agreement_ rather than part of their play, but Felix doesn’t know what to do about it or how to pull Sylvain back into the headspace that they were just in. 

He tries this: reaching down, hooking a finger through the soft leather collar and pulling him closer by the throat. Sylvain crawls forward on his knees, panting as his face is forced to turn up toward Felix’s own.

“Up here, dog,” Felix demands, trying to take control back while forcing down his frustration. Sylvain looks up at him as if he really _is_ a dog, one that’s just been scolded and stands ashamed and needy. His brows draw together and he nods, though Felix can see the uncertainty in his eyes. “Get a grip. Maybe you’ll feel better with your mouth full.”

Sylvain finds it in him to nod and he shifts forward, his erection now flagged while he starts to work at the drawstrings of Felix’s pants. He still doesn’t look at him, doesn’t respond in words, and by the time he’s finally worked the ties open, Felix’s hand is pressed against Sylvain’s fingers, halting him.

“What’s wrong with you?” He asks harshly (too harsh, he realizes too late) and Sylvain flinches backward, wincing.

“-nothing.”

Felix snorts and he’s never been a patient man but he tries not to give into his annoyance, just for Sylvain. “You can’t even look at me.”

“Sure I can.” And he does - he tries anyway, lifting his chin to look Felix in the eye, but his expression is… distant, like he’s forcing himself not to see, not to let anything in or out. Blank. Blank enough that Felix can see through it and into the pain there and now it’s Felix who flinches back, far back enough on the bed that Sylvain’s hand slips away from him entirely.

“Stop.” He says it quickly, insistently, “I’m calling stop.”

The expression on Sylvain’s face cracks and he huffs out a breath, turning away again with his bottom lip between his teeth.

“What do you mean, ‘stop’? I’m - I’m fine, look, I’ll go back to sucking your cock, it’s fine.”

If anything, that just makes it worse. Felix cringes, pulling his feet up on the bed now with knees between them as if he’s guarding himself, and feels his heart drop out of his chest.

“Put your clothes back on,” he demands, his voice suddenly hoarse. Sylvain looks like he’s going to argue again, but he doesn’t - which is another dead giveaway, because Sylvain would never miss an opportunity to be playful with him, to banter back and forth about his state of undress, but instead Sylvain just stares at the ground for a moment before tightening his jaw and reaching for his underwear.

“Fine.”

A swell of indignity rises up in him, one that he tries to clamp down but can’t quite manage to screw the lid on as tightly as he wants. Felix knows better than to open his mouth when he’s feeling this way, but he opens it anyway.

“You were the one who wanted to try the dog thing,” he accuses, and Sylvain glances back at him from where he’s awkwardly shoving his legs back into his underthings and Felix knows immediately that he’s made it worse already. What he doesn’t know is how to _fix_ it. He’s never been any good at that part, and now when it matters more than anything has ever mattered to him, it makes him feel small and afraid.

Which only makes him angrier.

“You were the one that called it off,” Sylvain shoots back.

“You acted like it wasn’t -" wasn’t what? Wasn’t pretend? Wasn’t part of this game he was trying to play? Felix doesn’t know how to finish that sentence and it leaves him floundering, stewing in his own frustration, wishing that they could just go back to how things were ten minutes ago.

But Sylvain is shoving his pants on already, one leg and then the other, and Felix wants to reach for him but he doesn’t know what to do when they get like this. He only knows how to turn his face away.

“...you acted like I meant it,” he finally says, but when he looks up, Sylvain is already gone.

_

Felix thinks about it for a long time. He thinks about the word _incompatible_. He thinks about how shocked everyone always is to find out about the two of them and wonders why that is.

They make up, but they don’t talk about it again. Felix lets Sylvain kiss him, Felix fucks him, but he bites back his words and it feels perfunctory, dispassionate. He worries about saying cruel things to Sylvain that Sylvain will _believe_ again and so eventually he stops saying anything at all. If Sylvain wants him to start again, he doesn’t ask for it. Maybe he’s afraid, after last time. Maybe he just thinks he’s ruined it. Felix doesn’t know how to tell him that he hasn’t, and they fall asleep on opposite sides of the bed without touching.

The next morning, he seeks out Claude.

He wishes that he doesn’t have to. He wants desperately to do anything else: to ignore the problem until it goes away (ideal, unlikely), to fix it himself (even less likely), or for Sylvain to fix it (which is, if he’s being honest, why he’s waited until now. Sylvain fixes everything between them, but it doesn’t seem like he’s willing to fix this).

But this is one thing that he will swallow his pride for, the only thing that matters and so he goes to Claude.

The reason is simple, really: Claude is courting the boar in what Felix is fairly sure is a similar manner to the way he’s tried to take Sylvain to task. They haven’t been obvious about it, but Felix can tell from the way Dimitri sways toward Claude when they’re in the same room together, the way his eye follows Claude across the room, the way he jumps to fulfill any small desire Claude might have - and Felix doesn’t miss the way that Claude smiles at Dimitri afterward, as if that in itself is a reward.

He doesn’t want to get tangled up into another couple’s love life. He especially doesn’t want to get tangled into _Dimitri’s_ love life. But he knows of no other couples here at Garreg Mach, particularly not a coupling between two men, and he’s learned Claude enough in the past few months to understand that he at least understands the concept of discretion.

So he finds Claude.

He’s in the dining hall at breakfast, though the meal is coming to an end. Claude is lingering after the others, talking to each person that comes up to him with some sort of question or concern about the lands around them. He handles them masterfully, much better than Felix who storms in and folds his arms, waiting just outside of what could be considered a conversational space.

He waits.

“...Felix? What can I do for you?”

It comes after Claude has dismissed the rest of the people around him and Felix looks up to find them alone. He could tell him, he thinks. They could have this talk that he wants to have, to figure out what he’s doing wrong, and Claude can just tell him how he can push forward.

He says nothing. His jaw feels locked shut, his shoulders hunched up near his ears and he sulks, trying to force himself to say it, just do it, just _open your mouth_ , but when he does, no sound comes out.

Claude doesn’t push it. He can obviously see that this is some kind of difficult admission for him and he keeps quiet, watching Felix with gentle, curious eyes.

Finally, Felix balks and looks away.

“Training grounds,” he grits out, and turns to go without checking to see if Claude follows him.

Claude does. Whether it’s curiosity or the fact that he can tell that whatever Felix wants to talk about must be _important_ for him to stammer on about it like this… well, Claude seems like he’s willing to jump through whatever hoops Felix needs him to jump through before he can talk about it.

When they reach the grounds, they find them blissfully empty in the early afternoon, which suits Felix’s purposes just fine. He moves for the weapon rack and takes two of the wooden swords, turning back to find Claude behind him and tossing one at him.

Claude catches it easily, an amused smirk on his expression.

“You know, I don’t usually use swords, right?”

“I don’t care,” Felix mutters in response, raising his up in an easy stance. Claude sighs and does the same.

Felix comes at him and Claude parries in the nick of time, his movements quick but unpracticed. Felix doesn’t believe in going easy on anyone, so he strikes out again and Claude grits his teeth, sidestepping and keeping his balance only barely as he twists to try and hit Felix with his blade.

He knocks it aside easily, stepping further into Claude’s personal space - too close for Claude to bring his blade back in time - and presses the tip of the wooden blade to the underside of Claude’s chin.

There’s a pause. Felix’s eyes narrow as he meets Claude’s, and he pulls back, rolling his shoulder.

“Again.”

Claude doesn’t complain. He must know by now that this is about more than just the fighting. Felix can only admit a weakness when he’s showcasing a strength, and proving himself here makes him feel less inadequate in other areas.

Their swords meet again, the flat of the blades crossing over one another. Felix _pushes_ , but Claude is a hair stronger and holds firm, not allowing himself to be moved.

“What is this really about?” Claude finally asks, and Felix grits his teeth, lashing out with the wooden sword in a move that Claude neatly ducks under, pulling back further out of his range to assess his next strike.

Felix doesn’t respond right away. Instead he lunges at him again and Claude knocks his blade aside, turning his defense into an offense as he closes the distance between them and jabs out toward Felix’s belly. Felix just manages to twist his own weapon downward in time in order to push the wooden sword away and slides the edge of his blade up the length of Claude’s sword to smash it against the hilt.

The shock of it makes Claude’s fingers loosen, the wooden blade clattering to the ground, and Felix points his sword at Claude’s chest, victorious again.

There’s another pause, and Claude tilts his head, looking at him like he’s trying to figure out the in-between, the parts of it that Felix doesn’t know how to say.

“Is it Sylvain or Dimitri?” he asks, perceptive as always, and Felix grits his teeth, looking away. 

Claude knows he’s struck true because he leans over to pick up his sword again, testing the weight in his hands. He makes the first move this time, as if to take advantage of Felix’s distraction and presses forward with a slash at his shoulder.

Felix barely gets his sword up in time and snarls, knocking the blade away from him and rounding back on Claude.

“Sylvain,” he finally, _finally_ spits out and Claude hums, understanding, before lashing out for him again. Felix parries this one easier, moves to lunge at Claude again, but Claude has seen this move twice now and twists away from him, light as air on his feet when he hooks his boot around Felix’s ankle and _pulls_ , sending Felix careening to the ground.

Claude moves to levy his sword at his throat, but Felix strikes it with the blade still in his hand, sparing himself from the defeat and catching Claude off-guard. From his position on the ground, he kicks out at Claude’s leg, but Claude moves further back to avoid it, allowing Felix the space to stand back up.

“He wants me to be cruel to him,” Felix finally says, breathless with the fight. Claude lifts his eyebrows at that but says nothing in response, and Felix goes on the offense again, feinting right before striking left, hitting Claude square in the arm.

Fighting, he thinks, is the only way he can bring himself to communicate. When he’s focused on this - the easy, practiced motions of it - the words come out easier, as if the exertion on his body somehow loosens his tongue and makes his mind clearer for what he needs to say.

Claude steps forward again to attack him and Felix huffs out a breath, spinning on his heel to whirl around and get his sword to Claude’s throat again. It isn’t that Claude is a bad fighter - his form is actually surprisingly impressive - only that what he said earlier was true: he doesn’t use swords often. In a match of axes or bows, he’d defeat Felix just as Felix is defeating him now, and so there is no pride or smugness that comes from Felix’s victory, only the satisfaction of decent training.

He clears his throat.

“I _want_ to be cruel to him. But I…” He lets out a long breath and squeezes his eyes shut, his grip on the hilt of his blade tightening. “...I don’t want him to think he deserves it.”

Claude considers this for a long moment, lowering his sword and resting his other hand on his hip.

“To clarify... you’re talking about what you do in bed?”

Felix can feel heat flush to his face and he wants to lash out and fight again, but the embarrassment roots him to the spot. This was a mistake, this was - but he thinks about Sylvain and the cold way he got out of bed that morning and nods once, just a quick jerk of his chin.

Claude hums thoughtfully, not judgmental or amused about it at all.

“And you came to me because…”

“I’m not stupid,” Felix snaps hotly, his eyes snapping open to look at him, “I know that you play the same kind of game with the boar.”

Claude shakes his head, lifting his free hand to stop him before he gets too riled up. “Hey, it’s alright. You’re right. I’m glad you talked to me. Let me think for a minute, alright?”

Felix simmers in silence then. He feels restless but Claude says nothing, deep in thought and staring toward Felix in a way that makes him uncomfortable and so he breaks off, moving to put his sword back in the training stand. The motion leaves him with his back to Claude which is good, because he doesn’t have to watch the way Claude looks at him.

The clatter of wood on wood feels too loud in the silence of the training grounds. He looks over his shoulder toward Claude once more, the other man’s hand on his chin in an expression of deep consideration, and Felix moves for him, practically yanking the sword out of his hand so he can put that away too.

Once he’s shelved it, he crosses his arms over his stomach and reluctantly turns back toward Claude, a frown seared deep into his face.

But whatever it is, whatever Claude is considering, he seems to have made up his mind and tilts his chin up with a small smile.

“Playing games like these with someone you love is a balancing act. It can be hard to get it right, especially with someone like Sylvain, who has his own needs that are separate from what he might think he wants. As you have correctly assumed, Dimitri is similar to him in that way. I think that… I’d like to give you a demonstration.”

Felix blinks, not quite anticipating that. Claude is right on the money of course, and it’s clear that the few moments he took to himself to consider Felix’s situation were not wasted: his assessment is accurate and maybe even a little helpful already, but that last part roots him to the spot.

“A… demonstration?” Felix repeats cagily and Claude grins.

“I’m going to ask Dimitri if it’s alright, and then I’d like you to watch us play our game. I’ll tell you what I’m doing and you can see the way I treat him. I think it would be helpful for you to see what we do and how I balance cruelty with adoration.”

He swallows hard, not quite sure how to respond to that. What Claude is offering - a glance into their intimacy - it’s something more than Felix could have ever anticipated when he came to him for help. His thoughts are in a whirlwind as he tries to consider it, to even _think_ about watching Claude and Dimitri… do _that_.

His first instinct is revulsion. Not at the act, but at the thought of seeing the boar in such a way, but as he pries deeper into that emotion, he finds that it isn’t revulsion at all, but fear. Why is he afraid?

Because he doesn’t want to see Dimitri being controlled and debased by someone? Because he doesn’t want to see Dimitri be adored by someone who knows him as well as Felix does? Because he doesn’t know what Sylvain will say, or if this will change things between the four of them?

“There will be rules,” Claude offers softly, wrenching Felix out of his thoughts. “You can leave at any time, and you’re free to establish your own boundaries as well. And of course, Sylvain will need to be told - whether he joins you or not is between the two of you.”

Felix nods slowly, though it’s a nod of understanding and not necessarily agreement.

“I… I’ll consider it.” 

Claude smiles reassuringly and moves closer to him, close enough that Felix tenses - but it’s only so that he can clap a hand onto his shoulder, giving it a warm squeeze.

“Take your time. We’re not going anywhere.”

He leaves the training grounds then, confident and sure of himself, as if he hasn’t just spiraled Felix’s thoughts out into a whirlpool of confusion, all of his earlier concerns now stifled in the wake of this new offer to consider.

_

“So… let me get this straight,” Sylvain drawls out slowly, looking toward Felix like he’s just grown an extra head. “Claude… offered to let you watch him have sex with Dimitri… to help _our_ love life?”

Felix glowers at him. He knows that telling Sylvain was the right choice - they’re in a relationship after all - but that doesn’t mean he likes the reaction he’s gotten. Sylvain still seems like he can’t quite believe it, but Felix laid it out as plainly as he could.

He grits his teeth and tries again.

“I want to… I want _us_ to be okay.”

“Felix -”

Felix cuts him off, because now that he’s started he’s not going to stop.

“Listen: I want to give you… what you need. But I want to do it in a way that doesn’t…” Felix trails off, unable to really think of how to express it and growls in frustration, feeling heat rising to his cheeks. “I just don’t want to hurt you, I guess.”

Sylvain says nothing for a moment but his expression is unreadable. It’s clear that Felix has surprised him, but exactly how and if it was in a good or bad way - well, he doesn’t know. What he _does_ know is that Sylvain isn’t usually quiet like this.

“Forget it. I’m -”

“Felix.” Sylvain repeats, his voice softer now, and Felix looks up at him, his jaw tight with tension. “You don’t have to… I mean, I can - I’m not really worth all that, you know?”

Sylvain chuckles, as if he’s just said something funny and shrugs his shoulders slowly. “It’s nice of you to want to try. I don’t know what I did to make _you_ be _nice_ , but whatever it was, I’m sure it was a fluke. You don’t have to do this for me.”

Felix feels the familiar frustration build up, the same feeling that courses through him every time he collides with this side of Sylvain: the self deprecation, the misery, the lack of his usual boisterous confidence. He wants to grab him by the shoulders, wants to say _knock it off, dumbass_ , wants to spar with him until he gets him onto his back and then can straddle him and show him just how _worth it_ he is.

He has enough self restraint to not do any of those things. What he does instead is shake his head slowly, his eyes narrowed as he looks down toward the stone walkway beneath them both.

“I want to. If it’s alright with you. Claude said… if you wanted to, you could come too.”

Sylvain's eyebrows lift in surprise his eyes growing wider as his easy humor finds him once more and his mouth cracks into a wary smile.

“Sounds kinky. I’ll see what I have on my schedule.”

_

Once their agreement is registered with Claude, Felix doesn’t really get a clear response and supposes that that’s the end of it. He wishes he hadn’t told Sylvain about his conversation with Claude if it ultimately culminated in nothing, but at least he tried. What’s done is done.

Until Claude meets them both after dinner one evening, his approach careful, watching as the other nobles make their leave. Sylvain has kept Felix later than usual, talking about something nonsensical about the new kitchen staff, and so when Claude shows up Felix is happy for the distraction.

“Hey, I was hoping to catch the two of you,” he greets them with a smile, a casual hand on his hip. Sylvain tilts his head up toward him and Claude shoots Felix a sly smile, ensuring momentarily that there is no one else around them before he continues. “If you were still interested in the subject of our talk on the training grounds… I’m ready for you.”

Felix blinks, surprised by the lack of warning.

“ _Tonight_?” He asks, glancing toward Sylvain, who is still a little confused on the subject of the conversation.

“Yes, tonight. Immediately, in fact.” Claude follows Felix’s gaze toward Sylvain, arching an eyebrow. “I’m assuming he told you?”

“He -” Sylvain starts, then chokes as realization finally dawns on him, that this is what Felix had been talking about all those days ago. “Oh, wow. You were actually serious. You both were serious?”

Claude nods patiently, confident despite the sensitive subject matter.

“Of course. I’m always serious, didn’t you know?” He winks, before continuing. “Anyway, sorry it took so long. There were some political conflicts that had to be dealt with and we needed his highness to be in top form. Now that it’s over with though…”

The suggestion sits there in the air, thick and heavy. Felix is speechless with the suddenness of it, but luckily, Sylvain is never lost for words for long.

“So what are we talking here, like all of us together, or...?”

Claude laughs.

“I’ll explain the rules when we get there. But for now, I need to know: are you still coming?”

Felix catches Sylvain’s eye - Sylvain still seems to be amused but curious all the same, seeing this for an interesting experience or a challenge rather than what Felix had really intended, which is something to help the two of them figure out their dynamic.

But that’s alright. If Sylvain enjoys it, great, if Felix can get something out of it… even better.

“Fine,” he finally says, standing up from the table. Sylvain agrees as well and moves upward, while Claude walks away without another word.

Claude leads them through the long halls and around the simple corridors of the monastery, along the stone steps in the indoor dorms. Some had put forth that the king of Faerghus and the leader of the Alliance - as well as the other greater nobles - should take rest somewhere other than the cramped dorms where they had resided in during their school days, but both Dimitri and Claude disagreed, wanting to be among their friends and people more than they wanted to be seen as a figurehead.

So they stay here, but either the walls are insulated or Claude is even more clever than he seems because Felix has never seen or heard of any evidence of his coupling with their king. It would take great care to hide a relationship like that, he knows from experience - most of the boys in their dorm know about Sylvain’s relationship with him simply due to how hard it was to hide such a thing here.

Regardless, they make it to Claude’s room soon enough, and Claude stops in front of the door, glancing through the hallway before turning back toward the two of them.

“There are rules,” he repeats quietly.

Felix nods and elbows Sylvain, who jerks his chin in understanding as well. Claude clears his throat, looking them each in the eye, deadly serious.

“We’re doing this as a favor to you both. If you disrespect me or him in there, I will ask you to leave. Dimitri’s trust is a gift, and if you break it, you’re out. I don’t care how you feel about him -" that part is directed toward Felix, "- but when we’re all in there together, you treat him kindly.”

Felix nods, tense with frustration that Claude would think otherwise. Charitably, he thinks that it's likely these are ground rules, like a contract. Of course you wouldn’t break it, but it needs to be said anyway, just in case.

“Neither of you may touch him or myself unless I say it’s okay. You can ask permission if you feel compelled to, which I may or may not grant. If you want to touch one another, that’s fine. If you want to leave for any reason, that’s fine. If you want me to stop what I’m doing, tell me to stop and I will. Are we understood?”

Felix nods again and out of the corner of his eye he sees Sylvain do the same. Claude offers them a little smile in return, the seriousness dripping out of his expression like honey and gives two sharp raps on the door before unlocking it and stepping inside.

Felix moves in after him, but freezes in the doorway and Sylvain bumps into his back, having not expected him to stop so quickly.

“Hey, what -” he starts to complain, but follows Felix’s gaze until he sees the scene before him and falls silent.

There is something to be said about seeing your childhood best friend tied up and naked. There’s something to be said about the inconsolable way that Felix had pulled away from him almost seven years prior, felt betrayal sting on his cheek when he watched Dimitri’s cruelty, turned his gaze elsewhere. There’s something to be said about being proven _right_ about the boar time and again, when he came back and found Dimitri a lost and broken beast.

What he sees now is vulnerability. What he sees now is Dimitri on his knees on the bed, his forearms tied together securely behind him by a long stretch of rope that loops around his bare chest and hips, twisting like a spiderweb across his pale and scarred skin. There is a blindfold over his eyes, fabric stuffed into his mouth, a small object in his hands behind him - Felix recognizes it as a bell, which his hand is clamped tightly over.

The finishing touch is what looks like a steel ring latched around his full cock, the cold beauty of it contrasting with the way his flesh surges with every inhale. He looks trapped, virginal, like a sacrifice waiting to be burned alive.

Felix suddenly, and with a need that startles him, longs to be there when it happens.

He finally steps inside the room along with Sylvain, who closes the door behind them both. Claude smiles, catlike, from where he’s moved over to the bed and nods toward two chairs that he must have set out earlier, one for each of them.

Felix sits and feels awkward, but when Claude shifts his attention away from the two of them and toward Dimitri, the feeling leaves him quickly. Claude touches Dimitri as if he doesn’t have an audience, as if Dimitri is the only person in the room - in the world, even.

Claude clicks at his tongue as he hooks a finger under a section of rope, testing the give of it, his lips pursing at the reddened skin underneath.

“Have you been struggling?” he asks Dimitri in a soft voice, softer than Felix would have expected. Dimitri nods mutely, unable to respond in full due to the cloth in his mouth, and Claude lets his fingers continue their path up his arm, to his shoulder, petting down his side and flank as if he were an anxious horse to be calmed. With the way Dimitri’s breath is barreling out of his nose, he almost sounds the part too.

Claude hums when he reaches Dimitri’s hip, his hand fluttering over the curve of his ass.

“We have company,” he murmurs to him and Dimitri alerts just slightly in response - Felix can tell from the sudden tilt of his chin, the flaring in his nostrils, as if trying to smell them. “I brought Felix and Sylvain with me,” Claude continues, smoothing his palm down the small of Dimitri’s back, “they’re watching you. Do you want to give them a show?”

Dimitri squirms from where he’s sitting up on his knees, his arms shifting behind his back, when Felix realizes with a start: there’s a thin length of rope latched into the tie around his ankles which threads up through the rope around his arms and finally loops around his throat. If he squirms too much, if he moves his feet or arms too sharply, the rope tightens around his neck like a choke chain, forcing him to relax again if he wants to take in an unencumbered breath.

From the way Dimitri’s breathing is labored, it seems that relaxing is not the easiest thing in the world for him.

“Easy,” Claude whispers, his hand sliding around until he finds Dimitri’s cock - half hard due to the ring, but already a generous size. Felix feels Sylvain’s eyes go to him and knows that Sylvain is trying to catch his gaze for some sort of lewd comment, and so he forces himself not to look at the man next to him, instead trying to remain focused on what Claude is doing.

It’s not exactly easy to watch though, when that also means watching Claude's hand work gently, teasingly at Dimitri’s cock, watching Dimitri arch his back, which shuffles his arms lower and causes him to gasp as the rope closes around his throat as tightly as it will go, halted by an expertly-tied knot which won’t pull through the small loop at the base of his neck.

For the first time, Felix realizes the safety measures that Claude must have put into this: the various knots that keep Dimitri from pulling too tight or too hard, the sheen of lubricant on his cock in case the ring needs to be removed in a hurry, the bell in Dimitri’s hand which would surely make a sound to alarm Claude if he were to drop it. 

The scene stretched out before him is brutal, almost cruel, but there are limits to it that Claude himself has set and Felix suddenly understands how that sort of limit can create the kind of trust that he’s been lacking.

The thought makes him frown and he turns away from the sight, staring at the floor.

Sylvain’s hand reaches out and finds his, squeezing at his fingers in reassurance during his moment of weakness. Felix’s first instinct is to pull his hand back and huff in annoyance, but he doesn’t. Something about the tender way that Claude eases Dimitri’s arms back so that he can breathe again makes Felix feel… vulnerable, as if he were the one in rope.

“You wanna go?” Sylvain whispers, though Felix is sure that Claude can hear it.

This has already been more intense than he was expecting and they haven’t even gotten started yet. Felix is tempted to leave there, catch his breath and try to figure out another way to work through his troubles, but finds that he stubbornly wants to see this through. He started this, he went down this path, he’s not going to be weak enough to back down now.

He shakes his head, his jaw set tight, and Sylvain nods, letting his hand drop away.

“What we do - what you want to do,” Claude starts as his fingers work through the rope, untying the bindings that connects the ropes between Dimitri’s ankles and his wrists, “is mix love and cruelty. They want the cruelty, maybe because they think that they deserve it, maybe because they like someone else having power over them - but that doesn’t mean that they don’t also need to feel loved, too. Bringing in pain with control breeds trust. Showing that you care for them while exerting power over them relieves tension, inspires loyalty, and -”

He pauses here while he finishes untying the knot, leaving him with a length of rope in his hands, which he loops effortlessly around Dimitri’s throat and _pulls_ as if it were a leash, dragging him down to the bed. Dimitri lets out a low cry beneath the cloth in his mouth, but his hand remains clamped tightly on the bell.

“- and can make the climax all the sweeter.”

Claude smirks, rolling Dimitri to his stomach and straddles over his buttocks, using his careful grip on the leash of rope to pull upward as if manipulating the reins of his wyvern, causing Dimitri’s spine to arch beautifully, a flush of color in his face as he struggles to maintain the awkward position without use of his arms.

Felix feels Claude’s gaze on him and tilts his chin up, attentive but defiant.

“Trust is more important than anything else in sex,” Claude explains, and Felix’s frown deepens, “even more important than coming. I know you don’t show it easily but you need to learn to communicate in a language he can understand or your problems will never be fixed.”

“It’s probably my fault,” Sylvain cuts in, as if to protect Felix’s pride. All at once, Felix feels a surge of adoration for him for noticing, for knowing how being chastised like this gets to him, for trying to help, “I push, you know, it’s not…”

“It’s his responsibility,” Claude counters coolly, letting up on the rope so that Dimitri can relax for a moment, stroking down the muscled planes of his back. “If you take control, you need to be responsible for that control. Sylvain needs to understand how you really feel if you’re going to pretend to be… apathetic. Or else, it just feeds insecurity and causes him to spiral into a place where you don’t want to go.”

Felix stiffens and Claude lifts an eyebrow in response.

“Am I close?”

He doesn’t respond. Claude doesn’t really need him to. Beside him, it’s Sylvain’s turn to go quiet and introspective and as Claude returns to what he’s doing, undoes the ties around his pants and starts to draw himself out, Felix tentatively extends his hand, touching his fingers to the back of Sylvain’s wrist.

“I want you to know,” Felix starts through the lump in his throat, and Sylvain turns toward him, his gaze hooded as he raises his eyes to meet Felix’s own, “that I’m - I value you, a lot. I don’t mean the things I say. You know that, right?”

Sylvain nods loosely and Felix thinks that he might not have gotten through to him - but it’s a start. However unconventionally the message was delivered, what Claude says makes sense, what he’s showing him seems to connect the missing pieces of Felix’s troubles together, make him realize what he was missing, what Sylvain needed.

And watching them… well, it certainly doesn’t hurt. Felix finds his gaze drawn to the spectacle before him again, at Claude untying Dimitri’s arms so he can roll him comfortably to his back and looping the rope back around his wrists, up to the headboard.

“If you break another headboard, I’m going to spank you,” Claude warns while Dimitri arches uselessly, tangling the fingers of his free hand into the rope, as if to hold himself steady while Claude moves to slick his cock further.

Sylvain moves his chair a little closer to Felix, turning his hand around so he can lace their fingers together. His actions betray his feelings: he wants to be close, wants to share this with him, despite the way that Claude’s words seemed to have an effect on them both.

On the bed, Claude is stripping out of his pants, kicking them off but keeping his shirt on. It’s just long enough that the edges brush past his hips, looking almost like a coquettish attempt at preserving his modesty. As he climbs over Dimitri’s body again, Sylvain opens his mouth and then closes it again, confused but not quite able to air his question.

Claude seems to be able to sense it anyway and laughs softly, his fingers stroking at Dimitri’s impressive cock again, now straining in hardness despite the pinch of the steel ring around the base.

“You don’t have to play the stud to be in control,” he teases, pressing a slick hand between his own thighs where the telltale motion of his fingers is obscured by the fabric of his shirt. Dimitri is surging under him now, desperate for it. The headboard gives a guttural _creak_ from where he’s lashed to it and Felix’s gaze is drawn to his hands, where he’s still clutching tightly at the bell, as if afraid that it’ll fall during his needy thrashing.

“As a matter of fact,” Claude muses, drawing it out further, teasing Dimitri into a frenzy beneath him, “I think it’s easier to keep my grip this way. I mean, just look at him… do you really think he could give orders like this?”

Dimitri is huffing out a breath now, whining out low from beneath the makeshift gag while Claude plucks at one of his nipples, and Felix has to admit that Claude seems right. Still, he finds his gaze drawn to the curve of Claude’s haunches, the tilt of his shoulders, the firmness of his own cock, tenting up suggestively beneath the thin shirt. Claude seems every bit in control of himself, but Felix can _see_ that he wants this too, that teasing Dimitri, using him in this way gives Claude just as much satisfaction as if Dimitri were actually inside of him.

His mouth goes dry as he continues watching, enraptured at the sheen of sweat in Claude’s collarbone, the elegant way his fingers slide out of himself, the nonchalant tilt of his jaw, even though Dimitri isn’t able to look at him. Felix finds himself consumed with it - the casual power that Claude is exuding, the unconditional trust that Dimitri is giving him - and finds himself envious.

As soon as he names the emotion, it sweeps through him, burning like a fire lit below his belly. He wants this - he wants Sylvain below him, panting and whimpering, he wants to feel the power of not only the control, but also the trust, the love - he wants to slide up on his knees and lower himself onto Sylvain’s cock the way that Claude is finally doing for Dimitri, and he wants Sylvain to _thank_ him for it.

He tries to look over, but Sylvain is just as enraptured as he is, the taller boy’s hand now a vice around Felix’s fingers, but he’s not staring at Claude, he’s watching the way Dimitri _finally_ feels the satisfaction of being inside of him, the throbbing pulse of his hips, the way the ropes bite red into his already-pinkened flushing skin.

“Are you - are you thinking about it?” Claude asks them - no, asks _Sylvain_ , his head tipped back in pleasure, but his eyes are still slitted and calculating, looking toward them as if he isn’t currently astride the most powerful man in the Kingdom, as if he hasn’t just reduced Dimitri into this absolute _mess_. “Thinking about being beneath him like this? Owning you? H- _aah_ , gods -”

Dimitri finally makes him stutter with a brutal thrust upward and Claude’s eyes roll back in pleasure for a moment until he snaps to refocus, looking back at them with that same teasing smile, except that now it’s stretched thinner as Claude’s grasp of control weakens with Dimitri’s animal need below him.

“You might as well take care of _that_ ,” Claude suggests, nodding toward Sylvain’s lap where he’s clearly tented in his pants. “It’s only fair.”

Sylvain freezes uncharacteristically, as if he’s suddenly shy about it, but Felix sees no need to be, not with the live show unfolding right over them. The headboard creaks again, threatening to snap and the sound, the reminder of what it means is just enough to make Felix release Sylvain’s hand, reach over to touch his thigh. 

When Sylvain doesn’t look over at the touch, Felix tightens his grip, digging his nails in and _now_ Sylvain’s attention fragments, twisting back toward Felix’s face, his narrowed eyes.

His own hard cock in his pants.

Felix musters up his courage, tries to remember Claude’s effortless control, his lighthearted banter with the undercurrent of care, trust, longing. He feels that way about Sylvain. He _wants_ to have that with Sylvain. And so, when he opens his mouth, his voice is husky with tension and disuse and when he says “get on your knees,” Sylvain lights up like the morning sky.

After a moment of consideration, after remembering the bell in Dimitri’s hand, the protective knots in the rope to keep him from hurting himself, Felix amends - “if you want to.”

But Sylvain is already sliding out of his chair to his knees on the floor, is already inching toward Felix’s legs, his gaze dark and heavy as he reaches up a hand to his knee. When Sylvain touches him, his palm feels hot and the warmth of it spreads through him like syrup.

Felix’s gaze flickers up toward Claude, sees that Claude is watching him, sees Claude’s chin tilt up just slightly in approval, and Felix reaches down to Sylvain’s jaw to tip his head up toward him. He tries to mirror Claude’s easy confidence, and the look that Sylvain gives him in turn is intoxicating.

“Ask me,” he demands, and Sylvain moves his chin against his hand just slightly, almost imperceptible. Granting him permission to take control like this, assuring him that he’s okay with it.

Sylvain sounds just as wrecked as he looks when he melts back into submissiveness, his voice coming out in ragged gasps.

“Can I?”

“Can you what?” Felix asks, inching the toe of his boot up further, finding the softness of the inside of Sylvain’s thigh against the side of his foot and nudging his legs apart.

Sylvain whimpers, his hips rolling uncontrollably toward him.

“...put my mouth on you,” he says on an exhale, his voice just barely audible from the creak in the bedsprings, “I wanna - want to suck you off, Fe. Please.”

His control almost fractures there but he manages to hold himself together long enough to nod, and Sylvain lowers his head. Once he’s not looking up at him anymore, Felix has the freedom to bite his lip, his face flushing darkly as Sylvain presses his face into the front of his pants, nuzzling at the warmth of his cock through the thin fabric. Felix swallows hard, shifts his hand to card his fingers through Sylvain’s unruly red hair, and remembers his foot, lifts his leg just slightly to press the toe of his boot behind Sylvain’s balls.

Claude gasps from where he’s rocking against Dimitri on the bed, reaches down for the knot of fabric still in his mouth and tugs it loose. Dimitri lets out a long sound in response, sucking in gasping breaths through his mouth as a low _crack_ echoes through the room. Felix doesn’t glance up - how can he look away from Sylvain on his knees in front of him? - but he assumes that the headboard isn’t long for this world.

It hardly matters though, when Sylvain is opening his pants, sliding down the length of him and getting Felix’s cockhead into his mouth as quickly as he can. Felix groans softly, nudging his boot up higher to press against Sylvain’s trapped cock in appreciation.

Sylvain takes the encouragement to work harder and soon the room is filled with the sound of gasps, the slick noise of wet flesh, the unmistakable smell of sex. Felix tightens his fingers in Sylvain’s hair and lifts his hips just slightly from the chair. It won’t take him long, not with the show going on just a few feet away from him.

Claude comes first with a strangled shout and Dimitri’s apparently had enough of not being able to touch him. The three rungs on the headboard that Dimitri’s bindings were laced through finally _snap_ , splintering as he reaches blindly for Claude, his fingers scrabbling at his shirt, his arms, anything he can get his hands on.

“Please,” he begs wetly now that he can speak again, his hips slamming up against Claude, desperate for any sort of connection, “ _please_.”

“Touch yourself,” Felix instructs Sylvain, who seems more than happy to open up his pants and slide a hand beneath the hem. Felix can feel Sylvain’s groan over his cock and knows that it was the right choice - he leans back further in the chair, languid, and lifts his leg over him, resting his heel against Sylvain’s back, his thigh flung over his shoulder.

It only makes Sylvain want it more and he buries his head in the space between Felix’s legs, licking down the firmness of his cock, mouthing over his balls, flicking his tongue down further - fuck his pants, fuck that Sylvain can’t get his tongue where Felix most desperately wants it, but it hardly matters when he’s _this_ close -

\- he uses his hand on Sylvain’s hair to jerk him backward, meets his eyes for one fervid moment, sees Sylvain’s blown-out expression, mouth wet and open in pleasure, sees Sylvain catch the unspoken question and nod just slightly. Felix comes like that, releasing in long spurts across Sylvain’s face, painting his nose, his cheeks, his lips with his spend. Sylvain sits there and takes it, whimpering as his shoulder moves faster with the intensity of how quickly he’s stroking himself.

Felix lazily moves to help, lifting the leg still on the ground and pressing the sole of his shoe flat against the outline of Sylvain’s cock and that’s all it takes: Sylvain comes against him like that, gasping in pleasure and grasping at any part of Felix he can reach to hold onto him. Fingers close over his thigh, twist at the fabric of his shirt.

Felix can’t help but smile hazily through the pleasure of it all and pulls his hand from Sylvain’s hair, touching the hand at his chest, threading their fingers together as he slowly lowers his leg from his shoulder. He pulls him closer, makes a move to kiss him, and then thinks better of it and licks the cum from his face instead, his tongue cleaning him in broad, even strokes.

“Open your mouth,” he tells him after he’s done, low and satisfied and when Sylvain does, Felix spits it onto his waiting tongue. A prominent shiver rolls up Sylvain’s spine as he realizes what Felix has just done and he whimpers, keeping his mouth open so Felix can see what he’s done to him, up until Felix touches his hand to Sylvain’s jaw and closes it for him, watching him swallow it down.

On the bed, Claude has gotten off of Dimitri and is laying next to him, sympathetically stroking his full and needy cock, his fingers dancing over the cockring.

“Tell him he did good,” he instructs, nuzzling against Dimitri’s shoulder, “hold him. Talk to him.”

Felix nods, reaching for him, pulling him close in an awkward half-hug against the chair. Sylvain stiffens as if to resist, as if he’s expecting more cruelty, but when it doesn’t come he goes loose in Felix’s arms, his shoulders trembling.

“You made me feel really - “ Felix starts, swallows hard, and continues. “It felt good. You did good. You made me happy, Sylvain.”

Claude is currently murmuring his own sweet nothings into Dimitri’s ear as he _finally_ slips off the constricting metal ring and offers a few more powerful strokes. It takes practically no further stimulation at all before Dimitri is coming all over himself, against the ropes laced across his stomach and chest like latticework.

He’s quiet, though, a sharp contrast to his earlier moans and cries, and when it’s done, Dimitri curls into himself, rolls to his side, and blindly, needily, reaches for Claude.

Claude is there for him. Of course he is.

“It’s important to be there after,” Claude murmurs, taking Dimitri into his arms, “to reassure. To go over what you did, to be present for them. Giving up control in intense moments like that can make them feel vulnerable… the more you console afterward, the easier it is to do again.”

Felix peers down at Sylvain, whose face is still buried in his shirt. He wishes that they had a bed too, wishes that he could lay out with him, touch him, tell him that he did well. _Next time_ , he thinks - maybe even _later_.

“I’ve got you,” he says, and for the first time, he thinks that Sylvain believes him.

Claude is saying something to Dimitri, something soft and gentle, and he takes the blindfold off, smiling as he watches Dimitri blink his eyes quickly to adjust to the light.

“Good morning, beautiful.”

Dimitri snorts out a laugh and rolls his shoulders uncomfortably still in the rope, which Claude moves to start untying. Like this, with his eye open and his scarred right eye visible, Dimitri suddenly seems _present_ , as if all this time he was simply an object, a mannequin for demonstration - now he’s human again, and as he opens his clenched hands, he chuckles to find the warped steel of the bell in his palm, crushed beyond any semblance of being able to make noise.

Claude laughs too, lifting his eyebrows in amusement.

“I suppose we’ll have to get a sturdier bell for next time.”

“...next time,” Dimitri repeats, his voice hoarse. For the first time, he turns to look at the two onlookers, his powerful form and golden hair making him still somehow regal, still somehow powerful despite the scene that they’d just witnessed. Dimitri tilts his head toward the both of them - Felix, with Sylvain scooped almost comically in his arms, staring back at him, his expression carefully blank.

Sylvain straightens and his feet find the floor once more as he reluctantly pulls away, tucking himself back in his pants. He turns, meets Dimitri’s gaze over his shoulder, and they’re all quiet for a long moment.

“Should we, uh…” Sylvain starts awkwardly, still a little ragged from what Felix has just done to him but unable to hide his satisfaction.

He looks to Claude to answer, but it’s Dimitri who does, patient as Claude continues undoing the long strands of rope from his shoulders and chest, giving him more and more mobility, revealing angry red lines that crisscross across his pale skin.

“Stay if you want,” their king offers, “get your bearings at least. There’s towels and water there to clean up with.”

Felix nods slowly, reshaping himself around the fourth person in the room and accepting the towel that Sylvain hands him to clean up a bit.

“I know this was solely for education purposes,” Claude starts cheerfully as he undoes one of the first knots on Dimitri’s thigh, “but I had a good time. Wouldn’t mind showing off again, actually.”

It makes Dimitri laugh again, a melodious sound.

“Of course _you_ wouldn’t.”

“Hey - hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”

The two of them fall into a playful little banter as Sylvain and Felix clean one another off. Close again to Sylvain like this, Felix can see the relaxed tilt of his shoulders, the lack of tension in his jaw, but he still knows now to ask: “you okay?”

Sylvain smiles at him, that same precious smile that Felix would go to war for, and claps him on the shoulder.

“Yeah. Thanks for… well. I know this wasn’t easy for you. It means a lot to me.”

Felix tries not to smile there, but he has to look away when he replies, “I didn’t… not enjoy it.”

Claude snorts in laughter, having overheard them, and slips off of the bed with the pile of rope that he’d used on Dimitri. He’s still in his shirt and nothing else, but the fabric of it manages to preserve most of his modesty unless you were _really_ looking.

“Maybe you can show us what you’ve learned next time, eh?”

Felix freezes and hates that he can feel the heat rising to his cheeks, but Sylvain claps him on the back and answers before he can formulate a response.

“Maybe we will. Fe?”

“Yeah,” he grumbles, turning for the door, reaching for Sylvain’s wrist to drag him along, “maybe.”

Still, Claude did a nice thing for them - a vulnerable thing, really, and he knows that he owes him a thanks somehow.

Maybe he’ll offer him a lesson on sword fighting to make up for it. After their earlier bout, Claude could certainly use it.

Or maybe they’ll do just as Claude suggests. The notion sets something burning on the back of his neck, but as he closes the door and feels the first burst of the fresh air of the hall against his face, Felix thinks that it might not be such a bad idea.

After all, there’s plenty of things that he wants to try now.

**Author's Note:**

> [Bonus!](https://i.imgur.com/fOFL6zo.png)
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and enjoying our collaboration! This was insanely fun to do, and I'd love to do it again someday!
> 
> Arist - [@justonevice](https://twitter.com/justonevice?lang=en)  
> Author - [@unraelated](https://twitter.com/unraelated)


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